


Larceny and Other Crimes [ARCHIVED]

by Rhiannon87



Series: Some Sort of Crazy [ARCHIVED] [4]
Category: Uncharted
Genre: Action, Adventure, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan Drake is a thief and a liar. It'd be a hell of a lot easier for Elena to walk away from him if that's all he was. Series of scenes set during Uncharted 2: Among Thieves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original version of the fic. The revised/rewritten one can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6363034/chapters/14575369).

“Are you getting this?” Elena shouts. Jeff doesn’t reply, his attention focused on keeping the camera steady as they move backwards down the street. The fighting’s gotten worse in the past hour, for no reason that she can think of, and the Hotel Shangri-La just went down after a helicopter assault. They’re trying to get away from the worst of the fighting while still getting decent footage: the tight-rope balance of a war correspondent.

Another helicopter—or maybe the same one, it’s hard to tell from this angle—swings through the sky overhead, firing at a rooftop. Whoever it’s shooting at fires back; the chopper dips for a moment as an explosion rips through its left side. Elena curses under her breath and throws her arms over her head, shielding herself from falling debris. “Shit, we’ve gotta get out of here,” she mutters. “Let’s move!”

They barely make it to the next street when the helicopter explodes. Elena watches, and Jeff films, as it careens into a nearby alley. The noise of impact is momentarily deafening. “Jesus,” Jeff says.

Elena grabs his arm and pulls him toward a wrecked building. It’s good enough cover for them to take a breather. “How much did you get?” she asks.

Jeff grins. “The whole thing goin’ down,” he says proudly. “Think we’ll make the ten o’clock?”

“With an exploding helicopter? They better put us at six.” Elena smirks. “C’mon. We ought to head back to the safe house and upload this.”

“Right.” Jeff settles the camera back on his shoulder and steps out into the street. “I’ll keep shooting, we might get something else good--”

Someone rounds the corner and points a pistol at Jeff. Elena takes aim at the newcomer on instinct, and it takes a few seconds before recognition kicks in. “Nate!?” She lowers her gun and gapes at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Nate turns to look at her, and for a split-second, his face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Elen--” is all he gets out before Jeff tackles him to the ground.

“Jeff, don't!” Elena holsters her gun and runs over before the tackle turns into a brawl.

Jeff has Nate's arms halfway in a hold as he looks up at her; Nate, for his part, just groans in pain and squeezes his eyes shut. “Wait, you know this guy?” Jeff asks.

“Yeah.” She helps Jeff to his feet. “This is Drake.”

“Oh.” Jeff offers Nate a hand up; Nate waves him off in favor of continuing to lie on the ground and look pained.

Elena isn't buying it. She plants her hands on her hips and stares down at him. “So, what's your angle on all this misery?” she asks. “You gonna plunder a few temples-- loot the museum?” He's certainly not here for anything good.

Nate sits up and sighs. “It's nice to see you, too,” he comments. Elena turns away and pulls out her notebook, flipping through the pages so she doesn't have to look at him. Six months. Six months without a word, no idea if he's dead or alive, and now she runs into him in the middle of a damned war zone. “I suppose you're here for some noble crusade, right?” Nate asks.

“Actually, we're trailing a fugitive war criminal,” she informs him. Which, in retrospect, is something of a noble crusade. But the way he says it is so... patronizing. “Zoran Lazarević, have you heard of him?”

Nate's eyes go wide for a second before he turns away. “Isn't that NATO's job?” he asks, crouching to pick up his gun.

“Well, they think that he's dead,” Elena continues. “Killed in some bombing raid.”

Nate scoffs. “Oh, and you're here to prove otherwise?”

She's about ten seconds away from punching him in the face. Again. “You know what,” she starts, rounding on him, “this guy's a real monster, Nate. We're talking torture, mutilation, mass executions...” Nate keeps fiddling with his gun, but Elena barely notices, thinking out loud as she paces. “Now he's plotting something new, but why out here? Why tear apart the city, you know, it just doesn't make any sense.”

Nate just shrugs helplessly and avoids eye contact. And that seals it. He knows something. Elena steps backwards, shaking her head. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Tell me you don't have anything to do with this,” she says. Please let it just be looting the museum-- god, if he's involved...

Nate laughs weakly. “That's ridiculous--”

“There you are, Nate!” A woman jogs into view, her face framed by dark hair and her tight red shirt torn in a few places. “I think I lost them--” She notices Elena and Jeff and immediately aims her gun at them.

Elena reaches for her own pistol as Nate pushes the woman's arms down. “Whoa, whoa, Chloe, it's all right, they're... journalists.”

Chloe glances at the two of them, her gaze lingering on Jeff's camera, then lowers the gun. She turns to Nate, apparently unconcerned about the other two people in the street. “We need to keep moving if we want to stay one step ahead of Lazarević, so--”

Of course. “Oh, man,” Elena says, shaking her head, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “Nate--”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute, now don't jump to conclusions, Elena--”

Chloe chuckles. “I'm sorry, I-- I'm sensing some _history_ here,” she says.

Elena plasters on her best newscaster smile and steps forward. “Oh, Elena Fisher,” she says, shaking Chloe's hand. “Last year's model.”

“Heh,” Nate mutters. “That's cute.”

Yeah. Hilarious. She turns on her heel and walks back towards Jeff, who's been watching the proceedings with a smirk and raised eyebrows. “Shut up,” Elena mutters. “Just-- just shut up.”

“You got it, boss.” Jeff shakes his head. “What now?”

Elena glances over her shoulder. Nate and Chloe are talking-- oh, great, and Chloe's fondling him, running her fingers down his chest, that's just... “We need to lose them,” she says. “They'll be nothing but trouble.”

“You sure?” he asks. “I mean, if they know about Lazarević...”

Elena nods. “Yeah. I'm sure. The farther we are from them, the better off we'll be. Trust me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jeff’s dead.

Elena crouches by his body and forces her mind to wrap itself around the concept. She has to accept it now, because there’s no time to mourn her colleague and friend. She has to run and survive long enough so that she can tell someone what happened. The world needs to know.

His family needs to know, at least.

“How can you work for that monster?” she asks Flynn.

“Better’n working against him, love,” he replies.

“So that's it, huh?” Nate asks, pacing across the room. “Just gonna mow us down in cold blood?”

“Looks that way, doesn't it.” Elena hears Flynn shift behind her. “Get up.” She doesn't move, her gaze still fixed on Jeff. “I said get up!” Flynn shouts, grabbing her arm.

Elena twists and punches Flynn in the jaw with the full force of her turn behind it. It's enough to knock him flat on his back. “Run!” she screams and dives towards the alley below.

Nate hits the ground two seconds after her. They sprint through the narrow streets and alleys, dodging bullets and trying not to slip on the wet pavement. Nate careens around a corner and almost bounces off a wall, then takes off towards the end of the street. The road’s collapsed from a bombing; naturally, that doesn’t give him any pause. He just launches himself at some exposed pipes and hauls himself up. Elena ducks behind a crate as the soldiers behind them open fire.

“You have to jump!” Nate shouts. He drops flat and holds out his hand. “I’ll catch you.”

Shit. Elena waits for a break in the shooting, then sprints towards the edge of the street. She grabs Nate’s forearm with both hands; he’s got an iron grip on her wrist as he starts to haul her up. Elena gets her feet against the wall and climbs up as best she can. Nate curses suddenly and grabs her with his other hand as blood runs down his arm to hers, red soaking into her shirt. He drags her up over the edge and rolls to his feet.

“Are you--”

“Fine, just a graze, go!” He shoves her down the alley ahead of him. They duck into an abandoned building and huddle down behind a wall, gasping for breath and dripping wet. Nate’s got his arm around her, and she’s just a few inches away from leaning against his chest. “You all right?” he asks.

Elena snorts. “Yeah. Never better.” She turns her head to look up at him; their eyes meet and for a few seconds, Nate looks like he’s about to kiss her.

For a few seconds, she’s about to let him. Then she looks away and sighs. That's over, and even if it wasn't, this is not the time. Nate moves away and gets to his feet, checking the alley behind them before pacing around the small room. “Are you okay?” Elena asks. She doesn’t quite have the energy to move from her place on the floor yet.

“Yeah,” he says, swiping a hand over his arm. “It just grazed me. It’s barely bleeding now.” He peers out past one of the collapsed walls, then glances back at her. “I’m sorry about Jeff.”

She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. “Thanks,” she says. “For helping him, too. Even if he still…” She shakes her head. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Nate replies. He completes his circuit of the room and goes to the table, pulling his notebook and a pencil from his pocket.

“Yes, I do,” she says, getting to her feet. “You could’ve left us--”

He stops scribbling and looks up at her. “No, I couldn’t,” he says flatly, and there’s no room for argument.

Elena just nods and picks up a crate to use as a makeshift chair. She rests her forearms on the remains of the table in the middle of the room and sighs. Nate flips his notebook closed and tucks it away, then glances up at her for a moment. “Never should've got you into this mess.”

“You didn't,” she says. “I got here on my own.”

“No, I mean, you know... the rest of it.”

Elena sighs. “We knew what the stakes were.” Jeff had volunteered for this. He wanted to find the truth as much as she did. Nate nods and reaches back into his pocket to fish out yet another map. Elena sighs and pushes her wet hair out of her face. “What now?”

Nate doesn't look up from the map. “I'm going after her,” he says.

“'Course you are. Typical.” Elena rolls her eyes. “Go after her.”

Nate ignores her snide commentary. “Flynn said something about a train,” he murmurs, tapping a spot on the map. “Which means they would've taken her to the rail yard, here.” Elena leans over to look as he walks away. “So it should be that way, past the water tower there.”

He's an idiot. He's a blind, noble, obnoxiously heroic idiot. “Nate, she pulled a gun on us,” Elena says. Pointing out the obvious, since he often seems to miss it.

“I know.”

The lack of concern in his voice is more than a little troubling. How many of his so-called friends have drawn weapons on him over the course of his life? “She was about to pull the trigger, too, they just... beat her to it.”

Nate sighs. “It's complicated.”

“Yeah, I'll bet.” Didn't look that complicated from where she was standing. It was her own damn fault for getting so attached to someone like Nate. For thinking she was special, that she'd be the one to change his ways. Elena shakes her head and looks back at the map, tracing out the route to the railyard.

“Flynn knew she was with me,” Nate says, leaning over the table. “If Lazarević finds out, you know what he'll do to her!”

“Yeah,” Elena replies dryly. “I've seen his handiwork.” And not just Jeff. Jeff had a quick, merciful death, compared to some of the others they'd found.

“Then you know I don't really have much of a choice.”

Dammit. Damn _him_. For all that he mocks her crusading, he’s just as noble as she is. It doesn’t matter that Chloe stabbed him in the back—she’s in danger, so he has to rescue her. It’s as simple as that. And it’s why, despite everything, she’s still in love with him. Nate’s a good man. Heroic, really, much as he might shy away from the label. Elena sighs and hands him the city map. “Honor among thieves, huh?”

Nate stares at her for a moment before turning away. “Something like that.”

Elena watches him, then shakes her head and lets out a bitter laugh. “I sure hope you know what you're doing.”

“I don't have the faintest idea,” he replies.

Of course he doesn't. Why would he. Elena sighs. “Oh, good to know that some things just never change.” She takes a deep breath, then pushes herself to her feet. “Okay. Let's go.”

Nate, bless his heart, looks surprised. “What? Oh, no no no no, you're not coming with me!” He puts a hand on her shoulder and angles himself between her and the hole in the wall.

“Nate.” Elena gives him a faint smile. “Shut up, okay? We have a train to catch.” Someone's gotta watch his back, since he can’t seem to manage it on his own.

Nate stares at her for a second, then smiles, something like relief passing over his face. “Fine,” he says. “Let's go.”


	3. Chapter 3

Elena ditches the car on the far side of the train station and heads back into the city on foot. She’d spent weeks prior to landing in the city memorizing the layout, but when half the city is a smoldering pile of rubble, street names don’t mean much. It takes her hours of back-tracking and hiding before she gets back to the safehouse.

Shockingly, it’s undisturbed. Everything is just as she and Jeff left it. Elena sinks into a chair and buries her face in her hands. Five minutes. She’ll give herself five minutes, then she has to get her things and go after Nate.

After three, she’s had enough of sitting still and not letting herself cry. She changes out of her soaked clothes and gathers up the few things that she can’t leave behind: her passport, her gun, her satellite phone, all the cash she can carry. She grabs her coat—bright orange makes sense for going into the mountains, it really does, but it’s also going to make sneaking around a challenge. She spreads a map of the surrounding region out on her table and dials her manager.

“Elena?” Roger sounds bleary, and she belatedly remembers the time difference. “Kinda late, isn’t it?”

“Jeff’s dead.” Elena swallows hard and clenches her jaw. No. She has to hold it together.

That wakes him up. “What? Oh, god, Elena, what happened?”

“Lazarevic shot him.” Elena traces her finger along the tracks leading into the mountains. That’s the one Nate had been on. Hopefully she’ll be able to catch up with him. Hopefully he’s still—no. Not thinking like that. He’ll be fine.

Roger sighs. He’s never quite believed her claims that the man’s still alive. “Are you sure?”

She slams her palm against the map. “I was standing a foot away when he pulled the fucking trigger, okay?” she snaps, her voice pitching higher with ill-contained hysteria. “I know what happened!”

“Okay. Okay, Elena. Sorry. Shit.” Roger falls silent for a moment. “I’ll take care of everything here. Notify his family. You just need to get out of there ASAP.”

“I know.” She folds up the map and tucks it into her coat pocket. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“Be careful.”

Elena hangs up and pockets the phone. Technically, she’s doing what he said—she is leaving. It’s just that instead of fleeing danger, she’s running headlong into it.

She wishes she could blame Nate for this, but plenty of it’s on her. She wants to see Lazarević dead, and to make sure it sticks this time. Elena pauses by the door and scans the small space again, checking for anything vital that she might have forgotten. After a moment, she goes over to her duffel bag and digs out the first aid kit. It’s too big to bring the whole thing, but she can fit a few packets of painkillers and bandages in her coat. She’s going after Nate, after all. One of them ought to be prepared.

Elena shuts the door behind her and checks her gun, then sets off into the city. She’s gonna need a truck.


	4. Chapter 4

Tenzin’s house is one of the few with lights still on as Elena crosses the village courtyard. She’d slipped out after dinner to visit Schäfer; Tenzin wouldn’t take payment for his hospitality, so Elena had given Schäfer the money instead. The older man had promised to make sure it got back to Tenzin and Pema one way or another.

Elena slips inside and shuts the door behind her. Pema and Tenzin are sitting side by side near the desk, hunched over a book; Tenzin glances up and nods at her when she steps into the room. Nate’s at the table, hunched over his notebook, scribbling something. Elena walks towards him and peers over his shoulder. “Oh, wow, Nate,” she says before she can catch herself. He’s working on a sketch of Pema, his gaze flicking between the young girl and the paper. “That’s really good.”

Nate looks up at her and smiles briefly. “Thanks,” he says.

She pulls out a chair and sits down next to him, watching as he sketches. “Do you do this a lot?” she asks. This is the first she’s really seen of this particular talent. The fact that she didn’t know he could do this bothers her more than it should.

“I don’t usually draw people,” Nate replies. “Normally it’s just, you know, maps or statues, stuff like that. But I’m bored.” He scribbles something at the bottom of the page and sets the pencil aside, then thumbs through the notebook. He opens it up and slides it over to Elena, revealing an intricately detailed sketch of the golden dagger.

Elena’s jaw drops. “That’s incredible.”

He shrugs, trying to act casual, but she can tell he’s pleased. “It’s easier to draw when I’ve got something in front of me for an hour,” he says.

“Easier than what?” Elena asks. Nate flips ahead a couple pages to a rough sketch of the map Flynn had taken from him. “Wait, did you draw this from memory?”

Nate nods. “Photographic memory,” he says, tapping the side of his head. “Comes in handy in my line of work.”

She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. “Parkour expert, crack shot, photographic memory—is there anything you’re not good at?”

“I can’t cook to save my life,” he replies immediately. “And I’m pretty terrible at picking friends, as you may have noticed.”

“What about Sully? And me?” There must be others, somewhere out there, people that won’t stab him in the back. Or shoot him in the stomach, as the case may be.

Nate closes the notebook and gives her a crooked smile. “I think you two are more of a ‘broken clock’s right twice a day’ fluke.”

Elena reaches out to put her hand on his, but draws it back when Tenzin stands, holding a sleepy Pema in his arms. “ _We are going to sleep now,_ ” he says. “ _Make sure Drake rests. We leave early tomorrow, and it is a long trek to the expedition site._ ”

“ _I will. Thank you._ ” Elena smiles at Pema. “ _Sleep well._ ”

Pema just ducks her face against her father’s shoulder. Nate waves and gives them a brief smile, then he glances over at Elena and sighs. “I take back all the times I made fun of you for learning Tibetan,” he says quietly as the door clicks shut behind Tenzin.

Elena smirks. “Apology accepted.”

Nate looks away, gazing at the banked fire, his fingers idly toying with the ring hanging around his neck. “How’re you holding up?” he asks with a sideways glance at Elena.

“Well enough,” she says. Better, now that he’s awake and moving around. If she’d lost him, on top of everything else… Nate keeps staring at her, like she's the ancient puzzle on a locked vault door, and if he looks hard enough the answer will jump out at him. Elena arches an eyebrow at him. “Something on your mind?”

“Plenty,” he mutters, more to himself than her, then shakes his head. “You really believe Schäfer?” he asks. “All this mystical ancient power crap?”

Elena looks down at her hands and shrugs. “If you’d asked me two years ago, I’d have said no,” she replies. “But after what we saw on that island… I don’t know. If there’s a chance that Schäfer’s right…”

“I guess.” Nate sighs and waves at the bed against the far wall. “You should get some sleep.”

“Oh, no. You are taking the bed.” Elena leans back in her chair and folds her arms. “You’re the one with all the injuries.”

“I’m fine,” he insists.

Elena shakes her head. “Nate, you got shot.”

“I know. I was there.”

“So then you know that you need to rest.” Elena stands and tugs at Nate’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

He lets her pull him to his feet, and Elena doesn’t comment on the way he leans against her and favors his left side. He needs more time to recover—but time is the one thing they don’t have. Nate sits down on the edge of the bed with a groan and starts to pull off his boots. “Where are you gonna sleep?” he asks.

Elena shrugs. “I’ll grab a few extra blankets and settle in on the floor.”

“No, Elena--”

Nate starts to stand; she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back down. “I’ll be fine. God knows I’ve slept on worse. And that was just back in college.”

He smirks. “There’s a story I’ll have to hear someday.”

“Hm. We’ll see.” It's not nearly as scandalous as he's thinking; she just camped out in the library once during finals, curling up under the desk with her backpack instead of going home.

Nate kicks off his second boot and glances at the bed. “We could probably both fit on here,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “It’d be more comfortable than the floor.”

“There’s a six-year-old sleeping in the next room,” Elena points out. “I don’t think--”

“I’ll be gone before she’s awake,” he says. “C’mon.” He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards the bed.

Elena sighs and gives in. She drops her coat and boots on the floor beside Nate’s, then curls up in the narrow space left on the bed, her back to his chest. Nate wraps an arm around her waist. “By the way,” he murmurs into her hair, “I refuse to be held responsible for any screaming that may occur if you elbow my gunshot wound.”

“Noted.” Elena blinks heavily; she must be more tired than she’d thought. Nate’s warm and solid and alive behind her, his breath ruffling her hair and his thumb idly stroking her stomach. She’s missed this. She’s missed him.

When all this is over… they need to talk. Maybe there’s a chance for them, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Elena hauls Nate up over the edge of the cliff, and he collapses against the wall, panting for breath. He holds his hands out in front of him, palms up, fingers twitching in pain. “I am never crossing a bridge with you again,” he vows.

“Deal.” She kneels in front of him and draws in a hissing breath at the state of his hands. They're covered in small cuts and scrapes, but the real problem is the splinters, some of them over an inch long, embedded in his skin. “Oh, Nate...”

“Yeah. I know.” He opens his eyes and looks down at his hands, then groans. “Crap.”

She can probably pull out the worst of them, if nothing else. “Here, let me see,” she says, reaching for his right hand.

Nate pulls it back and shakes his head. “I got it,” he mutters.

“Nate--”

“I can handle it myself.”

Stubborn idiot. “I'm sure you can,” Elena says, reaching for his hand again, “but you don't have to.”

He blinks at her and lets her start working on his hand. It's not pretty-- she has to use her nails to dig the splinters out, and Nate keeps up a steady string of curses throughout, switching languages when he exhausts one's capacity for expressing pain. “You're awfully loud,” Elena comments with a glance at the door.

Nate smirks. “That's not news to you, is it?” he asks, his voice low and a bit husky. Elena looks down at his hands and swallows hard, keeping her thoughts on the here and now instead of the way Nate sounds when he's under her.

“I think I got most of them,” she says, running her thumb along his palm. Nate flexes his fingers and winces, then pushes a small splinter out of his finger with his thumbnail. Elena shakes her head and leaves him to it, switching her attention to his left hand.

Apparently he's either run out of curses or he's grown accustomed to the pain, because Nate stays quiet, for the most part, flinching or hissing every so often. “You know,” he comments after a while, “I'm thinking that I should invest in gloves.”

Elena snorts. “You don't say.”

“I'm-- ow-- I'm giving it some consideration.”

“Next thing you know, you'll be carrying around rope and a compass.”

Nate makes a face. “Elena, please. Let's not go crazy here.”

She laughs and slides her fingers across his hand, checking for splinters. “How's that?”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against her wrist. “I mean, yeah. Good. I'll be fine.” He smiles at her. “Thanks.” She stands and offers him a hand up; he flinches slightly when she pulls him to his feet, and she's not sure if it's from the fresh injuries on his hands or the still-healing gunshot wound in his side. “Let's go,” Nate says before she can ask what's wrong. Elena sighs and grabs the other handle, and together, they pull the doors open.


	6. Chapter 6

Elena chokes back a sob as Chloe eases her down onto a fallen wall. Everything hurts, breathing most of all, and she knows that's not a good sign. “Hey, Elena,” Nate says, his eyes wide and voice gentle. “How're you doing, huh?”

She wants to reply, wants to say something reassuring and brave so he'll stop looking at her like that, but all that comes out are muffled whimpers. “Not good,” Chloe translates.

“Just hang in there,” Nate says, gently rubbing her shoulder. It's one of the few parts of her that doesn't hurt. “I'm counting on you.” Then his hand is gone and he's moving away. “Head for the gate,” he says. “Go as fast as you can.”

“W-What do you mean?” Chloe asks. Elena closes her eyes and tries to push herself up into a sitting position. She knows what Nate's doing. It's what she'd do in his place. But it's not going to make this any easier. “No,” Chloe says as she works it out. “No way.”

“Chloe, I have to end this.”

“No, you don't. Don't you _dare_ take on this-- stupid crusade!” 

Elena moans through clenched teeth. If she can just... just walk on her own, then Chloe can go with Nate. She can help him. They can end this. Chloe's at her side abruptly, putting a hand on her leg to still her. “It's okay.”

“Just get her out of here,” Nate orders.

“Not without you!” 

She can hear Nate's footsteps, moving away step by step as he speaks. “If that stuff could really transform  Lazarević and his men--”

“Please don't do this--”

“If it could actually make him invincible and I didn't try to stop it--”

“But this is suicide!” Chloe says, sounding close to tears. “And you know it!”

Nate's silent for a moment. “Just go,” he says. “Get as far away from this place as you can.” Elena hears a scuffing sound, then a distant thud, and she knows Nate's gone.

“Dammit,” Chloe mutters. “Dammit, dammit, _damn_ you, Nathan.” 

Elena forces her eyes open, swallows hard, and pushes past the pain to speak. “Go... go after him...” she whispers. “You can... help...”

“Oh, for god's sake, I'm surrounded by bloody martyrs,” Chloe snaps, sliding her arm around Elena's waist. “No. I'm getting you out of here. C'mon. Easy does it, there you go.” Chloe pulls Elena's arm around her shoulders and draws her pistol. “At least we can take the bridge this time.”

Elena sags against her, struggling to lift her feet for each step. Chloe keeps up a running commentary as they walk; the words don't always make sense, as Elena drifts closer to unconsciousness, but it's something to focus on besides the pain. “Stupid bloody self-sacrificing idiot,” Chloe mutters. “He just has to play the hero every single time—hey!” Chloe snaps at her abruptly, jolting Elena out of a daze. “C'mon, are you really just going to let me talk about your boyfriend like that without defending him?”

“'s not... my...”

“Oh, the hell he's not,” Chloe says. “He's-- careful, there, step up, there you go-- he's utterly mad about you. So you're not allowed to die, all right? Because if you break Nate's heart, I'll kick your ass.”

There's a few flaws in her logic there, but Elena's not thinking clearly enough to articulate them. “...thanks,” is all she can manage, because Chloe doesn't have to do this, doesn't have to drag her out. She could just leave Elena and run.

“Oh, god, don't thank me,” Chloe says. “Just-- you two are a bad influence on me. All right? That's all this is. I'm being wrongly influenced by a pair of would-be martyrs. We'll all get out of here and things will go back to normal.”

Elena almost laughs at that. They're so alike, Nate and Chloe, both trying so hard to convince themselves that they're just good-for-nothing heartless thieves. Nate may have figured out his own heroic streak by now, though. Chloe's still in denial.

“Okay, here we go, across the bridge,” Chloe says. “Here, just sit down here, easy, easy does it, there...” Chloe crouches down in front of her and peers into her eyes. “Hey. Stay awake, all right? I need you to stay--”

The ground beneath them shakes, and Chloe stands up. “What the hell-- oh my god.” Elena blinks once, twice, then everything goes sort of grey and fuzzy. There's noise and shaking and pain, but it all feels very distant. The next thing she's really aware of is a sharp pain in her ribs as Nate and Chloe pull her to her feet. “What the hell did you do back there?” Chloe snaps as they half-drag her up the stairs.

Nate lets out an exhausted, stunned laugh. “Oh, you know,” he says, “saved the world!”

They reach the top of the stairs, and Nate steps away for a moment. The ground shakes again. “Dammit, we gotta move faster,” Nate says, then he's scooping her up in his arms-- sweeping her off her feet, and if she could think past the pain she might laugh. Instead, she just moans as the movement jostles her broken ribs. “Sorry,” Nate murmurs. “I'm sorry, Elena, I'm so sorry...”

She wants to tell him it's all right, it's not his fault. She wants to tell him a lot of things, because she's pretty sure she's dying, but the words won't come. Everything's distant and dim, and then it all goes dark.


	7. Chapter 7

The first time she wakes up is something of a surprise. She wasn't really expecting to do that. Elena cracks her eyes open and blinks at the ceiling. Everything's fuzzy and numb and she feels sort of dizzy when she turns her head to see what the weight on her arm is. It takes a few moments to work out that it's Nate, slumped on the floor by her bed, his head pillowed on his arms and his fingers twined with hers. Then Tenzin's speaking to her, though she can't make out the words; he steps over Nate and helps her sit up enough to drink something from the cup he puts to her lips. She coughs, and pain shoots through her for a few agonizing moments before darkness takes her again.

The next time she wakes up, her head feels a bit clearer. She looks around carefully, trying not to move too much. “Welcome back, sunshine,” Chloe drawls.

Everything looks familiar, but she's still too fuzzy to place it. “Where...?”

“The village,” Chloe says. The other woman is lounging against the wall, arms folded over her chest.

Vague, dim memories of the last time she regained consciousness float to the surface of Elena's mind. “Nate?”

Chloe smiles crookedly. “He's sleeping. Sullivan and I had to carry him out of here when he finally passed out.” She pauses for a moment, then continues wryly, “He wouldn't leave your side.”

Sullivan-- Sully's here? “How long...?”

“How long have you been out? Three days.” Chloe shakes her head. “Nate was here for two and a half of them.” 

Elena smiles faintly. “Okay,” she says, feeling unconsciousness creeping up on her again. “Let him sleep. I'm just gonna...”

Chloe chuckles. “Yeah.” She pushes off from the wall. “Take care, Elena.”

She takes a step towards the door, and Elena fights back the looming wave of darkness for a moment. “Chloe?” The other woman pauses and looks back at her. “Thank you.”

Chloe sighs, her hand on the door frame, and smiles back at her. “Get some rest.”

Elena doesn't have to be told twice.

The room is empty when she wakes up again.  That's... a little disappointing. But her head feels clear, even if everything else absolutely aches. Her left arm and stomach are wrapped in bandages, and she can feel a few scabbed-over cuts on her face when she grimaces in pain. With a sigh and accompanying wince, she pushes herself up into a sitting position. It hurts, more than laying down but not so much that it's unbearable.

“You know, for someone who took a grenade to the everything, you look pretty good,” Sullivan says as he steps into the room.

Elena arches an eyebrow at him. “You better not be flirting with me, Sullivan, or I will come over there and kick your ass.”

He laughs and holds up his hands. “That was a compliment! If I was flirting, you'd know, trust me. I am not exactly subtle.”

“I'm not surprised.” Elena swings her legs over the side of the bed and stops to catch her breath.

Sullivan raises his eyebrows. “I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be out of bed.”

“I'm fine,” she replies. “Been in bed for... I don't know how long.”

“Five days, give or take,” Sullivan says. “Nate borrowed your phone and called me after he and Chloe brought you here. I got here a couple days ago.”

She nods. “Where is he?”

“Outside, I think-- oh, no.” Sullivan steps forward as Elena starts pushing herself to her feet. “No, no no no. You should not be walking around right now.”

“I'm _fine_.”

Sullivan shakes his head. “You stubborn asses deserve each other,” he mutters, then offers her his arm. “Fine. If you're going to be up, at least let me help.”

Elena smiles and takes his arm. She'd never admit it, but she's grateful for the support; her legs almost give out at the first step. “Okay, careful on the stairs,” Sully says, walking backwards down them to guide her. “Here, let me--” he reaches for her other hand, and Elena bats him away.

“I'm fine, Sully,” she insists. She's starting to feel like a broken record.

Nate turns back towards them, his hands cupped around something, and smiles at her. “Well,” he says, “look who's not supposed to be out of bed.”

Sully snorts. “Yeah, she's a lousy patient,” he says. “Stubborn as hell.”

Elena rolls her eyes and pushes him away. “I'm not stubborn. Just restless.”

Sully just chuckles and lets her stand on her own. “So,” he begins, turning to Nate, “no giant sapphire.”

“Once again-- no.”

“And you're sure about that?”

“Yes!” Elena says, laughing.

“Just a metaphor, I'm afraid,” Nate says with a grin.

Sully shakes his head. “Metaphor ain't gonna pay your bills, kid,” he says, sticking his ever-present cigar back in his mouth.

“Eh, something else will come along,” Nate says. He steps closer to Elena and offers her his arm; after a moment's hesitation, Elena takes it, wrapping her arm around his and leaning against his shoulder. “You just gotta have faith."

“That and a quarter'll get you twenty-five cents,” Sully comments. Nate just shrugs. “Uh... which way did Chloe go?” Nate heaves a sigh and points. Sully grins. “See ya later.”

He turns around and strolls off. “Oh, no...” Elena mutters, laughing. That will only end in tears. Whether they're tears of laughter or tears of pain remains to be seen, but there'll be tears.

“You're a dirty old man, Sullivan!” Nate shouts after him. Sullivan, unsurprisingly, doesn't argue the point.

Nate leaves Sch äfer 's amulet at the base of the altar, and they wander across the courtyard. Elena leans her head against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his. “So,” she begins, “where do we go from here, huh?”

Nate stops walking and turns to face her. “I don't know,” he says, then leans in and kisses her, sliding an arm around her waist. Her hands automatically go to his shoulders; they fit together just like she remembers, like all the intervening months never happened. He chuckles when he pulls back. “I haven't thought that far ahead.”

Elena shakes her head. “Of course not.” No ability to plan whatsoever. Nate places his hands on her shoulders and smiles at her. And somehow, the lack of a plan doesn't really matter so much. “Then again... neither have I.”

“Good.” He grins, and she takes his hand as they walk towards the fence.

“So. On a scale of one to ten, how scared were you that I was gonna die?”

Nate contemplates for a moment, and Elena leans her head against his shoulder. “Four.”

“A four!?”


End file.
